‘Well, Ursula, the world will hardly give you credit for such indifference.’
‘What cares we for the world, brother! we are not of the world.’
‘But your fathers, brothers, and uncles, give you credit I suppose, Ursula.’
‘Ay, ay, brother, our fathers, brothers, and cokos [68b]
gives us all manner of credit; for example, I am telling lies and dukkerin in a public-house where my batu [69] or coko—perhaps both—are playing on the fiddle; well, my batu and my coko beholds me amongst the public-house crew, talking nonsense and hearing nonsense; but they are under no apprehension; and presently they sees the good-looking officer of militia, in his greens and Lincolns, get up and give me a wink, and I go out with him abroad, into the dark night perhaps; well, my batu and my coko goes on fiddling, just as if I were six miles off asleep in the tent, and not out in the dark street with the local officer, with his Lincolns and his greens.’
‘They know they can trust you, Ursula?’
‘Ay, ay, brother; and, what’s more, I knows I can trust myself.’
‘So you would merely go out to make a fool of him, Ursula?’
‘Merely go out to make a fool of him, brother, I assure you.’
‘But such proceedings really have an odd look, Ursula.’